


Could Never Deny Him

by rainbowstrlght



Series: Could Never [2]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Crossdressing, Food, Food Issues, Food Sex, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-15
Updated: 2011-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-19 10:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowstrlght/pseuds/rainbowstrlght
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chubby!Spock returns, and this time Kirk gets him to wear women's clothing. A sequel to "Could Never Say No".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Could Never Deny Him

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Could Never Say No](https://archiveofourown.org/works/188618) by [rainbowstrlght](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowstrlght/pseuds/rainbowstrlght). 



It was illogical to be distressed at his reflection. It was more like _concerned_. More like wary.

Some time ago, Spock would have stood before a mirror and seen what most termed a _stocky_ Vulcan. Not typically thin like his peers, but rounded at the edges. Not overly so, but enough to appear _thick_ – an acceptable thickness that padded his midsection, yet also settled all over his frame.

Before he met Jim, Spock had kept his weight under reasonable parameters. In fact, a month ago he had determined a course of action after many recent over-indulgences, and had intended to implement a regimen. Rigorous exercise in the gymnasium, and a well-balanced and healthy Vulcan diet.

But Jim had changed everything – had only furthered his lack of self-control. That night when he had uncovered Spock during a moment of deep shame, he had turned it into something completely unexpected and unaccounted for – sexual pleasures that rivaled his epicureal gratifications.

And now that they were together, the stocky Vulcan was no longer just “soft”, but very – _very_ – round.

Spock looked sideways at his reflection, and noticed the bulge that formed what humans typically called a potbelly. Entirely rare in Vulcans, and yet Spock had gained enough weight to become even more of an anomaly.

He could grip and squeeze the bulge in his hands – but even worse when he did so, he realized he could barely see his toes.

Jim was most certainly a bad influence.

“ _Hey_ ,” Jim said quietly from behind, leaning on the partition to Spock’s bedroom. “That face doesn’t look happy.”

Spock couldn’t meet Jim’s gaze. It was one thing for Jim to be slightly turned on by his weight – but to be incredibly _overweight_? By at least 12 kilograms, if Spock were honest.

“I am determining whether a medical doctor could conscientiously clear me for duty.”

Jim frowned. “Bones says you’re doing fine.”

Spock raised an eyebrow – ignorance? Jim was reasonably intelligent.

“My last exam was six weeks ago.” Spock didn’t want to, but he squeezed for emphasis. “ _This_ did not exist six weeks ago.”

Jim watched the movement, unnaturally quiet. He moved behind Spock, and it took all of Spock’s Vulcan control to not lean into the strong and lithe frame – a body so different than his, so much better than his own.

“Bones would’ve said something, you know.” Jim rubbed a bicep, with his hands traveling down to forearms as he folded Spock into his chest. “He’s not all that polite.”

Spock hummed, but not in agreement - lips kissed the pulse of his neck and grazed the skin behind his ear. Jim met his gaze in the mirror, with blue eyes that Spock could never get over being sincere and honest.

“If it makes you feel better, then let’s change this,” Jim whispered. “We’ll get up early, go work out, eat better – anything you want. Because what matters most to me is _here_ – “ Jim kissed the side of his head, “and _here_ – “ Jim gripped his side. “I like these parts the best.”

Spock swallowed, the moment almost uncomfortably sweet. There were few people who had ever accepted him the way that he was – one was his mother, now deceased. Another was Nyota, who had moved on yet remained a close confidante. And now Jim – who saw things in Spock that he never knew existed.

A hand smoothed over his waist, then moved lower to the offending bulge; not gripping, but rubbing small and soothing circles.

“I can’t lie, though,” Jim said quietly, a breath skating the ridge of Spock’s ear. “ _I_ will miss this.”

With one last caress, Jim sighed and stepped away – changing the subject to ship’s business, yet not capturing Spock’s full attention from the ghost of his hand.

***

“ _He-ey, Spo-ock_ – I have some presents for you.”

Spock looked up from his PADD, trying to quell the anticipation that he felt at that sing-songed voice. In the past when Jim sounded that way, the present would normally be something edible – something enticing and rich and forbidden.

But Jim knew that things were different now. Spock had thankfully lost five kilograms in the past three weeks, with partial credit to those presents disappearing from view.

However, Jim still looked wicked. “Close your eyes.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, of which Jim only laughed at.

“Hold out your hands and close your eyes – it’s just some fun, Spock.”

A reasonable request, of which Spock acquiesced. He held his palms out, then felt the strange, light box cradled in his hands.

In the past month, desserts had been exchanged for books and articles – things Jim had read and wanted to discuss with him. Instead of feeding Spock literally, they now shared a beneficial relationship that fed the mind; something that Spock had missed keenly.

“Now open your eyes.”

But when Spock looked down it was not a PADD or book that he held in his hands, but a white rectangular box.

Spock placed it carefully on the desktop, unsure of what would require such a box, but not wanting to damage it.

Jim could barely restrain his glee. “Go on – open it.”

Yet when Spock lifted the lid it only made things incredibly more perplexing.

His fingers delicately handled the silk straps, lifting them carefully to examine the silk and lace negligée they were attached to. The fabric rustled over tissue paper, the ivory an off hue from the box, yet the white lace matching exactly. 

“I am unsure how to respond,” Spock said truthfully. It was a beautiful garment, yet Spock had no inclination of what female to give it to.

Jim only grinned. “Say you’ll wear it.”

Spock felt both eyebrows disappear to his forehead, unable to help gawking at the insinuation.

Jim only shrugged. “You’ve been working so hard lately… I thought this would look great on your new figure.”

“I am not a female.”

“And I never said I was a normal guy.” Jim lowered his gaze, fiddling idly with a pen on his desk. “Just wanted to try something different, that’s all.”

When Jim looked up, the full power of his bright blue gaze was fixed upon him, pleading. “Please Spock? Just try it once, for me.” He quirked a lip. “You never know – it might be worth your while.”

It was an incredibly pathetic attempt, even for Jim. But Spock found the smile strangely appealing – and since they were alone, perhaps the request was even harmless.

He was sure he would regret it, however – “I will try on your garment.”

Excitement emanated as Jim rubbed his palms, barely able to sit on the desk’s edge. “ _Thank you_.” He folded his hands under his arms, and yet his legs jittered. “I’ll wait here while you put it on.”

His enthusiasm was peculiar, and it only increased as Spock stood up and took the box with him. For such a request, it made Jim overly-excited – watching Spock like a hawk as he made his way to the head.

It was bizarre, certainly. Spock had never considered putting on feminine clothing for his own enjoyment, although he had no judgments on those who pursued such things. And yet, handling the fabric was pleasing – it would feel comfortable against his skin. It would also perhaps please Jim.

But once Spock slipped it on, the matter was entirely reversed – _not_ comfortable, whatsoever. Where the fabric may be soft and sensual, the cut of the negligée was incredibly unflattering – flowing with an empire waist over his stomach, and emphasizing his decreasing bulge. It highlighted what Spock had been trying to avoid, trying to hide, and it only gave him immense embarrassment.

Perhaps Jim thought he had lost more weight for this garment. Looking at himself in the mirror, Spock could only conclude disappointment once he left the bathroom – which he could do with the garment removed, he supposed.

And yet, Jim had wanted to see him in it. If he removed the negligée it would prompt questions – or Spock could show him exactly where he was failing, and perhaps Jim would never bring up the topic again.

Spock took a deep breath, gathering his resolve – and shivered. Which, if Jim tried to persist for any reason, Spock could use as a reasonable excuse.

He grabbed the box and held it in front of him as he opened the door, catching Jim’s eye immediately.

The wide smile faltered. “Spock?”

Spock straightened his back, trying to swallow the panic rising in his throat. “I believe… the garment does not fit properly.”

Jim huffed a laugh, which went straight to Spock’s nerves.

“Spock, it’s not exactly _fitted_.” Jim gave him a questioning look. “And besides, I think you’re sexy no matter what – show me.”

Spock’s head jerked minutely, subconsciously, and Jim got up from the desk with a small smile.

“Come on, let me look. And if it’s uncomfortable – “ Jim actually _leered_ , “then we’ll just remove it.”

Spock swallowed, watching as Jim approached him like a timid animal. Jim’s fingers curled out, long and tempting, beckoning for the white box that was Spock’s only cover. The closer Jim got, the more Spock backed against the wall – the back of his thighs naked and knocking against the cold surface and making him shiver.

Jim grinned, his eyes victorious. “I’m a lot warmer than that box, surely.”

Spock dropped it promptly, looking up towards the ceiling to spare himself Jim’s expression. No doubt it would be horror, or confusion – or even worse, incredible disappointment. But at least it would be over with; the humiliation soon ceasing.

Or not.

In the impending silence, Spock heard a harsh intake of breath.

“ _God_ , Spock.”

Spock averted his gaze to spare his dignity. “I will remove the garment now.”

“Fuck – please don’t.”

Spock looked up, watching as the hungry blue eyes took in his appearance. Instead of the expected look of disgust, it was a perplexing and heated arousal – Jim’s face flushing red as Spock’s went verdant.

“I do not understand.”

Jim took a step forward, his hand hovering above a silk strap. “Spock, if I could explain all my kinks to you – “ a finger slipped under, caressing Spock’s skin as he followed the seams, “it would take all of eternity, and we’d never get anywhere.”

Jim’s eyes went from shoulders to the empire waist, where they fixated on the slight bulge of his belly below. Jim’s hand reached out – hesitant and light in the caress, but causing Spock’s body to shudder as Jim leaned into him, shifting the fabric over his stomach.

It was unexpectedly erotic, the silk a whisper against sensitive skin. Jim rubbed a slow circle, the action heating Spock’s blood to the point of a _sigh_ with head tilted back, watching Jim’s avid profile.

At the sound, Jim looked up – pupils blown, his lips so close to Spock’s own.

His breath was ragged. “I have another present.”

Spock couldn’t even imagine, that breath suddenly on his neck as it mouthed pulse point to jaw to lips as Jim grabbed his waist.

“Go lie down.”

Spock was maneuvered from the wall with ease, Jim’s skill walking him backwards until he fell on the bed; flushed and excited as the negligée exposed his arousal to the cold air.

Spock sat up on elbows, watching as Jim moved quickly to grab another small box near his desk.

 _That_ one looked familiar.

“I will not,” Spock felt tumble from his lips, just as he licked them at the sight of the strawberry éclairs.

Jim kneeled on the bed, moving between Spock’s open legs. “You’ve been so good, Spock. A treat wouldn’t – “

“I will not.”

Spock watched as Jim removed an éclair from the box, pink filling bursting over Jim’s long fingers. 

Jim looked mocked-apologetic. “ _Oops_. I have this all over my hands.”

Spock swallowed. “I will not – “

But Jim had leaned over, his thigh rubbing Spock’s cock and stomach in delicious friction.

Jim’s voice was low. “These were in the mess, just sitting there, and – “ his fingers hovered so near, so precariously close to Spock’s mouth. “You’ve been so good, Spock. We’ll burn it off in the gym tomorrow – one can’t hurt.”

Spock felt his eyes cross, going to half-mast as he finally gave in. He tasted the heavy whipped frosting on his lips, with an overwhelming sweetness swirling on the tip of his tongue.

He hummed – all that sugar crashing and vibrating his bloodstream, warming his entire body. Jim fed him the éclair slowly, each agonizing moment a zing to his taste buds. The contrasting frosting and pastry only made the taste more addicting, so pleasurable, and making him hungry and desperate for more. When it was gone, Spock sucked each finger longingly – lips over knuckles and fingertips as his tongue cleaned them off.

Spock’s head fell back, a slick _pop_ as Jim’s fingers were released and Spock could see his eager face. Jim stared at him, no movement missing his notice, but it took Spock a moment to realize a hand was jerking him off.

Jim’s hand was steady, not missing a beat as he reached again into the box.

Spock shook his head, but he knew it was futile. That steady fist turned slow and teasing, the éclair an obvious bargain as Jim held it at his mouth.

Spock opened it to say no – but instead moaned around the strawberry frosting, Jim’s fingers smearing it over his lips as he forced another bite. The action only made him cant his hips, rocking up for more friction and getting lost in sensation – orgasm and sugar and pleasure and sugar and Jim’s face dark and predatory and leaving Spock no choices.

At the end of the second éclair, Jim ripped his hand away to unbuckle his pants.

Spock felt slow and exposed, and he could only watch as Jim slipped their cocks together, rubbing them into silk and flesh with Jim’s sticky hands.

The box moved toward Spock’s head, and Jim didn’t even have to plead. Spock reached for it eagerly, stuffing his mouth as Jim rutted against him, wetness on silk as Jim fell on top of him moments later, a groan escaping his lips. Spock sucked the frosting off his own fingers and followed shortly after – the intensity making him feel blown into a bright, white light.

The intensity fogged his mind, and it wasn’t until Jim was kissing and licking frosting from his mouth that Spock felt the first moment of horror:

He had _cheated_. Completely. The éclairs had been huge, and no doubt Spock had gained –

Jim sucked his lower lip, biting it for his attention. Jim murmured between their mouths, “You are so fucking _gorgeous_. I love it when you let go like this.”

Spock blinked, trying to focus, but instead got lost again in a kiss – his eyes closing as Jim took control with his tongue, making him forget what they had just done.

***

However in the weeks to come, forgetting had become more difficult.

It seemed that once Spock remembered the rush of sugar – the way it tasted on his tongue, across his lips, and made his body feel electric – that it was a path to more excused indulgences.

Despite his best attempts, he had gained the weight back. At first he had fought it, frustrated at needing to return to larger measurements. But after some tense diplomatic conferences and an away mission gone awry (with Jim mysteriously missing for a period in the aftermath), Spock had become too worried about other things to battle his vices.

And Jim did not seem to mind them, obviously. After three months of dating, Spock had grown accustomed to his partner’s peculiar appetites – perhaps even feeding them on occasion.

The previous evening had Spock observed at his desk as he leaned back to consume a large piece of chocolate cheesecake. Jim had watched from a lounger as Spock undid his belt, letting the zipper of his trousers fall to the weight of his stomach. A true potbelly had peeked out under uniform, and Spock had caressed it absently – focusing on the smooth and velvet textures in his mouth as he pretended to ignore Jim masturbating.

It was all to his benefit, surely. It had brought Spock and Jim closer together in a new level of trust.

“ _Spo-ock_ ,” Jim whispered in his ear, sending a shiver up Spock’s spine. “I have a present for you.”

Spock vaguely wondered about Pavlovian dogs as the voice dragged his attention. He looked up from his PADD, recognizing the white, rectangular box.

The negligée had been ruined the month before, and Jim had not brought it up since. Spock had concluded that it had all been a ruse – a way to get him eating again after his defenses were torn down.

But here it was, another box. Another box after Spock had gained his weight back.

“Open it,” Jim said with too much glee, making Spock assume the worst – lace? Frills? Perhaps a garment more revealing than before.

But as Spock opened the box, he was pleasantly surprised: It was a small black camisole with fitted shorts, made of a cotton knit.

Jim shrugged. “Nothing fancy, but they felt really soft to me.”

Spock raised a brow. While the ensemble was likely meant for a female, Spock did not consider it overly feminine in style. Which, considering the previous silk negligée, seemed like a vast improvement.

Spock removed the garments from the tissue paper. “I will change into them.”

Jim leaned over the desk for a quick kiss. “Great, because I’ll be in the bedroom with your other present.”

The words sent a thrill through Spock, considering the likelihood of what this _other present_ might be.

The visions of it danced in Spock’s mind as he headed to the bathroom, slipping into each piece. They were indeed comfortable – the cotton smooth against his skin – except for a minor, yet important detail:

They barely fit him.

While Spock had eased his self-consciousness, it did not stop his fingers from pulling at the hem of the camisole, which barely covered the entirety of his stomach. In fact, the fitted shorts were snug under his belly, still leaving an inch of exposed skin between the hems – an obvious reminder of what his body had become.

Spock frowned at his reflection, turning sidewise to see the extent of damage. While he knew he had gained his weight back, he seemed perhaps heavier than before – 15 kilograms at his midsection, his face lacking any sharp angles and definition. 

Spock swallowed bile, fighting unexpected anger – it was _disgusting_. He had not taken the time to see himself plainly, and thus had let himself go. His Vulcan control had waned, and now he was incredibly unhealthy – beyond his established parameters, beyond what could be personal preferences.

They were mapping star systems now, the stresses of Starfleet currently on hold. Spock had no reason to continue his over-eating, and Jim would have to understand that.

Spock tugged at his top, determined. Whatever _present_ was waiting seemed suddenly unappetizing. But he would try to enjoy it, for it would be his last indulgence for a long time – he could satisfy Jim and himself, and have no regrets for the months ahead.

He left the head still fiddling with the camisole, distracted as he walked towards his bedroom. Yesterday he would have been tantalized, imagining all the possibilities of what Jim had in store. But now he only felt _huge_ – an unhealthy wreck that should be cleansing and not tainting his body.

Except once he walked past the partition all thoughts flew from his mind: Jim was lying naked. And not only naked, but accompanied by the largest piece of chocolate cake Spock had ever seen.

Spock stared at it, counting the five layers of the wedge that took up most of the plate. It could be fudge, or dark chocolate, or devil’s food – but it all meant one thing.

Spock looked up at Jim’s eyes, the smirk evident and tinged with cockiness.

“You going to join me, or just stare down my goods all night?”

Spock swallowed, still several feet from the bed. If he turned around now, he could likely spare himself the likely inebriation and loss of inhibition. Things that shamed him, and yet…

Spock kneeled on all fours, crawling to lie beside Jim, whose smile was wicked and luring him in.

“You are so good, Spock – so sexy,” Jim purred. “Look at you, that outfit fits like a glove.”

Spock’s eyes went wide as Jim sat up with the cake, and he swallowed. “I am too large.”

“No,” Jim said softly, fork poised. “You’re perfect, just the way you are.”

Jim pushed his shoulder, making Spock lie against propped pillows. It was soft and comfortable, and Spock’s hand went instinctively to his stomach as Jim leaned over him, fork towards his mouth.

He should say no – he should say so many things. But the cake was moist and spongy, the frosting thick, and Spock could only hum as it settled on his tongue, sending a thrill throughout his body. It was so sweet – almost _too_ sweet – but the fudge mingled with a crumbled cookie layer, sticking to the roof of his mouth.

The richness overwhelmed him, and he could feel the buzz in his bloodstream – from head to toe, he felt an intense desire to open himself to more – _more_. And Jim gave him more, making Spock reach with his tongue for each bite.

“Ah – I think we need to slow down.” Jim teased the fork away, just as Spock tried to smooth it between lips. “Don’t want it all gone in an instant.”

But Spock wanted it in an instant – wanted to devour it _now_.  His body felt warm, and suddenly things seemed less unpleasant and more erotic. His legs were spread wide, and he hooked an ankle around Jim’s waist, pulling him in.

Jim almost fell over with the cake, putting a hand out on the bed, and yet his obvious hard bulge rubbed Spock’s stomach.

Spock cocked his hips, causing more friction that made Jim close his eyes. If only Spock could reach – those pants would be unzipped by now.

Instead Spock pulled up his camisole – his stomach like a taut balloon, exposed to the chill air that was like a breeze on his warm skin.

Spock rubbed his side and Jim groaned at the sight.

“Fuck, Spock – keep doing that.”

Spock could feel his lips upturn. “Only if you pull out your _co-ock_.”

The last slurred from his tongue, but Spock didn’t care – loved the feel of wetness on his stomach as Jim rubbed his cock all over him.

“God Spock, you feel so good.” Jim thrusted into him, little jerks of his hip that he couldn’t help, and yet Spock egged him on.

He rubbed his stomach and licked his lips. “Feed me, Jim.”

Jim shivered, but brought the fork up to his mouth with a shaky hand.

Spock moaned with it, angling his hips with Jim’s thrusts. He was so hard and so close, his stomach about to explode with even one more bite, making him incredibly sensitive. But Spock took his time – his tongue swirling the tines, each spot of fudge frosting not missing his notice and melting in his mouth.

After Spock had sucked the fork dry, Jim stabbed at the plate, picking up what remained with gusto. It was the size of several bites and Spock licked his lips with relish.

Crumbs covered his lips as it entered his mouth – the piece so incredibly big and almost choking him. Chocolate overloaded him, and Spock thrusted hard and came – could feel the wetness in his shorts as his vision blurred.

He could hear Jim moaning as if from afar, before feeling the weight land on top of him and his over-sensitive stomach.

It took Spock a minute, but he forced himself to lay on his side, rolling Jim to his back.

Spock heard a huff of a laugh before a hand came across, joining Spock’s in slow, lazy circles on his bloated belly.

“God Spock – I love you. I fucking _love_ you.”

Spock smiled in drunk contentment, enjoying the feel of the moment and finally being _full_.

***

Over the course of mapping star systems, what once became inexcusable for his weight was suddenly a blessing.

He could not stay this heavy forever. Now 20 kilograms overweight, his potbelly made him pear-shaped and slow, bumping into his science station.

Which was fine – for now. But the good doctor had finally intercepted, and tomorrow was finally the day he would need to take control of his diet. A diplomatic conference in three weeks demanded it, and Spock would have to concede that his current form would not favorably represent Starfleet.

Still, Jim had mourned – and so had Spock, in a way. While their relationship and sexuality would not end, Spock had a fondness towards his stomach for bringing them together.

Which is why Spock allowed Jim full rein tonight. Spock would always miss sweets, but Jim would miss the benefit of them – and so, perhaps, Spock could allow this last over-indulgence.

“Really?” Jim had asked with a devilish gleam in his eyes.

And Spock should have known – should have known that it would also mean one last outfit, perhaps more garish and revealing than the last.

In some respects it mirrored the first negligée. There was a baby doll style to it, with white lace and ivory silk. But this time the front panels were divided down the center, in white mesh that only accentuated his bulging stomach. Silk boy shorts were also on, but Spock knew how Jim would want them – he kept the elastic underneath, making his stomach completely stick out in front of him, framed by the empire waist and mesh paneling.

Spock patted his stomach – it would be gone soon. Too soon. This was, in some aspects, a respectful exit.

Spock walked out of the head, allowing his steps to jiggle flesh as he walked out. With his uniform, folds were confined and held together – but out in the open like this, practically naked, Spock had nothing restricting him.

And from the eager look in Jim’s eyes, he also preferred it that way.

“You are so huge, Spock,” Jim whispered, his eyes devouring his figure.

It was strange now, to not have those words sting. Over the past six months, Jim had only spoken with such reverence for his body – and in some ways, it made Spock learn to appreciate his unique form. And while a lifetime of self-hatred was hard to overturn, it now included his bulging stomach, and the way it felt to live with it.

Spock kneeled on the bed, knowing instantly that when he did so, Jim would take care of him. Perhaps that had been the over-arching theme – Jim would make him lie back, engorge him, and that was immensely pleasurable... for both of them.

As Spock sat against several pillows, with his stomach touching the bed as he spread his legs, he could think of nothing better.

Except the warm, blueberry crumble that Jim unwrapped looked so incredibly tart, it gave Spock a toothache just looking at it.

Yet he waited expectantly, hand on his stomach, waiting for Jim to find a utensil to shove it in. Or perhaps Jim would use his fingers, of which Spock would suck dry –

Jim grinned – a _dangerous_ grin – and set the pan lightly on Spock’s stomach.

“I’m always too slow for you, Spock.” His smile broadened. “I think you should feed _yourself_.”

Spock grew hard just at the thought – blueberry crumble, sticky and messy, with only his fingers alone?

Spock quirked a lip then picked up the pan – diving his hands in and not holding back.

At first he had peeled an edge, trying to get a hold of an actual piece. But it was so warm and messy, that Spock eventually let it pool and pour over his entire hand – his tongue licking every crevice, every inch of skin that held a direct connection with his cock. He was so painfully hard, so incredibly aroused that Spock licked incessantly, sucking on his fingers. He took large handfuls of blueberry crumble – some spilling and staining his outfit – and moaned as he sucked the pads of his fingers dry; relishing the taste and electricity he felt at the action.

He was so lost and intoxicated with the sensations, that he barely registered that Jim had his own cock in hand, stroking fast with pants of breath. The pan was large and took some time to devour, so in one moment he had seen Jim come and pouring into his own hand, and then as Spock licked the pan clean saw Jim hard again, pupils blown with desire.

Spock felt so full, so stretched, that his skin and cock were sensitive to touch. Spock caressed his stomach, moaning at the discomfort, but spreading his legs wide to give Jim the hint of what he wanted.

Jim hitched a breath. “You want me to fuck you?”

Spock nodded vigorously. He couldn’t do more than nod – so lost in sensation, that he wanted Jim to center him with his touch.

Jim leaned forward, his hands shaking with want and need as he caressed the curve of Spock’s belly. He kissed it gently, before he pressed gently on Spock’s hip. “You are so good to me, Spock. Gonna make this good for you – roll over.”

Spock groaned – it was painful to move – but yet he was so turned on. The moment he rolled over on all fours, feeling his stomach and cock skimming the bed, he almost came there.

But Jim’s slick fingers eased into him, eager in scissoring him open, and Spock felt himself go lighter and more out of his body – rutting back helplessly as Jim grazed his prostate, yet not giving enough pressure.

It wasn’t until he felt the blunt head of Jim’s cock enter him that Spock lifted his hips, shoving back mindlessly and with abandon.

“ _God_ , look at you.” Jim grabbed the flesh at his hips. “Fucking sexy, Spock – _so sexy_.” And with one huge thrust Spock felt his body move back and forth – front to end – and continued doing so as Jim set a punishing and desperate pace.

Wet and slick flesh smacked together, with Jim grunting as he pounded into him. Spock felt overcome, not cognizant of the sounds and words coming out of his mouth, not cognizant of  anything – until Jim reached a hand down below, not grasping his cock but caressing his stomach between sheets and skin.

Spock moaned into the crook of his arm, his stomach slicked with come against the bed sheet, with the panels of his negligée stuck to his sides. Sweat cooled as Jim gave one last thrust – Spock almost smacking his head against the headboard as Jim fell on top of him, pressing him into the mattress.

Feeling warm, sticky, and uncomfortably cold in places, Spock lifted his head to roll to the side, knocking Jim off of him.

“ _Mmrph_ ,” Jim said as he fell to the wayside. “That was so fucking great – so fucking _beautiful_.”

Spock was barely aware of Jim moving, until he felt a kiss to the side of  his head. A hand reached around to caress his stomach, still sensitive and taut.

“When we retire together, you’re gonna relax a bit, right?” Jim breathed on the ridge of his ear. “None of these restrictions – just you and me.”

Spock almost smiled at the inherent promise – _retire together_?

How could Spock deny him?

“I believe when we retire, we can do whatever we desire.”

Jim hummed, and Spock settled into the most desirable agreement.


End file.
